Candace Robb - A Vigil of Spies

Owen turned to find the archbishop smiling.

Ravenser had unclasped his hands, breaking his self-imposed bonds, and settled in one of the chairs by the bed. ‘I agree. It would be easier to provide a good living for a son than to arrange a satisfying life for a woman. Women do not seem to consider it an honour to reside in nunneries. They feel they’ve been tucked away in an unused storeroom so that they might be forgotten. Though your daughter Idonea has expressed contentment in her life at Hampole.’

‘True, Idonea has been a comfort, and for that I thank God, though I chide myself for having been so negligent in communicating with her. Which reminds me of Wykeham’s emissary.’ Thoresby lifted the leather case that Joan had brought. ‘I would have Brother Michaelo read these aloud now.’

At the mention of his name, Michaelo bowed his head and crossed himself, and, without a word, moved to the chair Joan had vacated, taking the pack of documents from His Grace.

‘I would like to stay,’ said Owen.

‘Of course,’ said Thoresby. ‘I want both you and Richard to hear what Wykeham went to so much trouble to tell me.’

‘And failed,’ Owen said beneath his breath, as he settled onto the stool towards the foot of the bed.

Ravenser settled across from him. Thoresby lay back against his cushions, eyes closed, his hands lying at ease on his lap. Brother Michaelo began with the letter in which Wykeham explained what the other documents would reveal. It contained no surprises.

The temper of the remaining documents was clear. Alexander Neville inquired as to the nature of the family’s agreement with the Thoresby family, Euphemia and her family expressed outrage over the implications and the intrusion into their private lives, and the Bishop of Exeter assured the family that their secret was safe with him and that his respect for John Thoresby was undiminished. He advised them to keep their copies of this correspondence secure, should they need to make use of them in future.

Owen mumbled a curse and added more clearly, ‘For this two men have been murdered.’

‘It does seem a great fuss has been made in an attempt at petty accusations,’ said Ravenser. ‘As her Grace pointed out, Neville behaved as if he were dealing with guild members or schoolmasters, not an archbishop.’

‘I would be alone for a while,’ Thoresby said, with a great weariness.

Owen was relieved. He’d heard enough and was anxious to question Dame Clarice. He and Ravenser left the room, but did not go far. Sir Lewis and Geoffrey were pacing in the corridor, the former with an expression at once grim and anxious, the latter plainly concerned for his friend.

‘What has happened?’ Owen asked.

‘Lady Eleanor has been with Dame Clarice for a long while,’ said Lewis. ‘She has avoided me the past few days when it has been obvious that she has been much troubled in her mind. I come to you, Captain, because I suspect she has trespassed in some way with one of your guards. Gilbert. Several times I’ve come upon them in heated conversation and each time they’ve broken off at once and pretended they were not together. And now, this trouble with — I know who Dame Clarice is, Captain, but Lady Eleanor should not.’

‘You need say no more. I would have you find my second, Alfred, and tell him to bring Gilbert to His Grace’s chamber under close guard. I will bring Lady Eleanor there as well.’ It was time to confront them. His conversation with Clarice must wait — indeed, it might prove unnecessary. ‘Sir Richard, I would have you ask Princess Joan to allow Alisoun and the nuns to withdraw to her chamber for a short while, at least until I have escorted Lady Eleanor from there.’

‘Have you a task for me?’ asked Geoffrey.

‘If you would accompany Sir Lewis, my friend, in case Alfred needs advice.’

With a nod, Geoffrey withdrew with Lewis Clifford.

‘My uncle is weary,’ Ravenser reminded Owen.

‘He wants answers,’ said Owen, ‘and, with God’s grace, we may this day deliver some.’

As Jehannes had risen from the table in Bess’s kitchen, he’d wondered aloud where to begin. Bess had suggested that he save time by talking to his summoner, Colin; he’d felt a little foolish for not having thought of that himself. It was a summoner’s duty to keep abreast of the faithful, which involved sifting through the gossip that ran through the city. Colin was an unassuming, quiet, ordinary-looking man around whom people talked with ease, often failing to notice his presence. At this time of the morning he could usually be found kneeling in the minster near the chapter house to catch the gossip as the canons drifted out of the chapter meeting. Jehannes was not disappointed.

Grey-garbed and grey-haired, Colin often seemed a shadow or a reflection, not a flesh-and-blood being, but his conversation was full of the colours and textures of his observations of folk, great or humble, young or old; he had a gift for divining the subtleties of temper and a true affection for his fellow man. His pale eyes lit up at Jehannes’s approach, and he rose at once to join his master in a quiet spot.

His head bowed to give his full attention to Jehannes’s description, Colin nodded several times during the explanation and query.

‘Yes, God be praised, I can help you with this, Dom Jehannes,’ he said at last. ‘The bearer of the brooch has been the topic of much gossip in the liberty and amongst the goldsmiths on Stonegate. A Neville he is, though he did not divulge that to the goldsmiths. He claimed the bauble was no longer of use to him for his sweetheart had turned her gaze elsewhere.’ He chuckled, his dimples showing.

‘A Neville? You are certain of this?’

‘Oh yes. He’s also busied himself entertaining the canons while singing the praises of his cousin, Alexander Neville. Why, this shall be the centre of God’s earthly kingdom when Alexander becomes archbishop.’ Colin’s eyes were merry with his own wit.

‘Did he name his sweetheart?’

‘No, he is quite discreet, even going so far as to vary his manner of dress when on his own business.’

‘Was he able to sell the brooch?’

‘Oh, yes. It was a pretty piece.’ Colin nodded decisively. Then he asked, ‘Is it true that the princess’s party is confined to the palace because a murderer is loose?’ Before Jehannes could think how to respond, Colin added, ‘It must be exciting to be there, in the midst of all that.’

‘Dangerous would be a more appropriate description,’ said Jehannes.

‘So it is true?’

Rather than answering the question, Jehannes asked instead for the name of the goldsmith to whom the man had sold the brooch, and, once he had his answer, rose in haste, thanking Colin and departing before he could ask more.

The goldsmith seemed to corroborate Colin’s opinion of the clever Neville, for the man had apparently been quite convincing in his tale of wishing to gather enough money that he might go into self-imposed exile and heal his broken heart. The brooch was beautiful, and the goldsmith already had a buyer in mind.

Jehannes was grateful that he had plenty to report to Owen, for it was time to return to the barge. He regretted that he could not spare the time to tell Lucie and Bess what he had learned, but he must hurry in case something in his report might help Owen prevent another death.

In the days leading up to Princess Joan’s arrival, Thoresby had focused on regaining some strength, which had left him little time to anticipate how the visit might unfold. Certainly, he had never dreamed that he might meet a daughter of his own. But now, lying in his great bed absorbing the news, he thought it a most appropriate revelation to receive as folk came to pay their last respects. It was, after all, his child’s last chance to speak with him. Though, apparently, she had not come with that purpose, but rather to spy on him.